better than heart attacks
by Skitts
Summary: 13; It was at those words that Light decided life was pointless and, subsequently, staked himself through the heart with a pen. :oneshot collection, L & Light:
1. pillow

**better than heart attacks  
****o1: pillow**

* * *

"Uhn…"

"Fmhhn…"

"_Ngghhh_."

"Light-kun?"

"What?" replied the irritable 'Light-kun', rolling over on his side once more in a desperate attempt to get comfy. Even though he'd been tossing and turning for nearly an hour now, he _still _wasn't going to give up. First L had robbed him of his home, then his personal space, then his sort-of-kind-of-not-really girlfriend. He was not going to let him steal his sleep either.

_Sleep was good, like potato chips..._

"Why do you insist on making such strange noises? It's reducing my reasoning skills by thirty percent," the spindly detective said in a dull, matter-of-fact voice.

"_Urrghhh_," Light 'urrghhh'ed (for really there was no other way to describe it), rolling back over to face his 'acquaintance'. Or, in the words of Touta Matsuda, 'bed buddy'.

The irritable teen let his brown eyes trail up and down L's slender physique slowly, as if taking a mental snapshot to be stored away and used for later reference.

He was sat in his usual crouch, laptop balanced precariously on his knees, fingers on his right hand diligently clacking against the keyboard while the fingers on his left cycled through his parted lips slowly, each one decorated liberally with saliva and teeth marks. His obsidian eyes were blank and staring, almost eerily so, and his milky-white skin was bathed in the dull blue glow emitting from his laptop. Light found himself idly wondering _why _L had ever decided to become a detective in the first place; appearance taken into account, he'd be far better suited for the role of a soul-sucking zombie in an NC-17 slasher movie.

"I am making strange noises, Ryuzaki," Light said after a long pause, the image of L and his strange crouch now firmly burned into the backs of his eyeballs, "because I am tired and wish to go to sleep. You know what 'sleep' is, _right_?"

"Of course," L replied in his monotone voice, thumb resting on his lower lip. "Sleep, dictionary definition: a natural state of periodic rest for the mind and body, in which the eyes usually close and consciousness is completely or partially lost, so that there is a decrease in bodily movement and responsiveness to external stimuli."

"Then why don't you ever do it?" Light moaned, burying his head into his pillow. It was the only way to avoid the harsh glare of the laptop, the only light in the entire room. That is, if one were not to count Light Yagami. Sometimes having a name was so easily ridiculed _sucked_. "Sleep is a normal occurrence for most people."

"Surely I thought you would have been able to deduce by now that I am not most people and I am_ not_ normal, Light-kun. You, on the other hand…" L smiled wanly, his voice taking on a slight teasing lilt. "Well, judging from my surveillance of your household you had a fairly normal sleeping pattern. Is there any reason why you have decided to break tradition now?"

"Yeah," Light murmured, voice muffled by the pillow. Plan B; attempt to asphyxiate yourself to death and/or sleep (whichever came first). Unfortunately, there was a small flaw in his cunning scheme. The pillow just wasn't fluffy enough to allow for suffocation.

Jesus, Light would've thought the great detective L could at _least_ afford nice pillows. Then again, before he'd met the eccentric man he'd also assumed the great detective L could afford socks. However, Light had been wrong on both counts. One hundred percent wrong, to coin one of L's common phrases.

"It's because I have to stay awake until the early a.m.s of the morning helping you with the Kira case, and then when we (_finally_) do go to bed you sit there in your stupid crouch clacking keys really, really loudly and sometimes you pull on the chain by accident - and that really hurts, yanno? - and when you eat cake you get crumbs everywhere and… and…"

"And what, Light-kun?" L inquired, interest finally piqued. Carefully, he set his laptop onto the floor and turned to face his acquaintance/suspect/bed buddy/friend(?). "Do I have any more imperfections you would like me to be aware of?"

"Yes, lots more. You're so fucked up as I wouldn't know where to start," Light said absent-mindedly, the teasing words making L smile a little behind his thumb; it was a good thing Light wasn't looking or he'd have had a heart attack. Which would be rather ironic, actually. "But the last thing isn't about you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Light frowned, cautiously sitting himself up so as not to knock the chain and raise his percentage of being Kira. "It's the _pillows_ – they're so damn uncomfy! I mean, back at home I always had like _five_ of them and they were really nice and soft and much better than these cheapo ones and I _can't _sleep without fluffy pillows and- hey! What the hell?!"

"Light-kun sounds too much like Misa-san sometimes," L explained.

Well _ha_. As if those words had a hope in hell of _ever_ explaining why the auburn-haired teen had suddenly found himself pressed against the detective's side, mid-rant, thanks to a quick jerk of the chain that linked them together, wrist-to-wrist. A snowball's chance in hell, more like (i.e. none at all).

"Uhn… Fmhhn… _Ngghhh_?" Light asked, brown eyes wide and confused, mouth opening and closing vacantly like a goldfish. He looked _cute_, and even cuter still when L wound his stick-thin arms around his torso, anchoring him into place like roots to a flower. "I… What the _hell_?"

"Light-kun was complaining about not having any pillows," L elaborated, sighing as though it were the most _obvious _thing in the history of obvious things. "I hope I am comfier than a pillow."

"But…" Light started, but he was quickly silenced when the detective buried his head into the gap between his neck and shoulder blade. A deep inhale on Light's part found the scent of baking pastry invading his nostrils, a truly heavenly aroma that allowed the teen to close his eyes contentedly.

"Light-kun, _please_ shut up and go to sleep."

For what was probably the first time in his life, Light was only too happy to obey.

* * *

**a.n: yay :D fluff. anywho, this is a collection of random death note oneshots which will mostly revolve around l & light (& misa to a certain extent). some will be au and joy like that.**


	2. pwned

**better than heart attacks  
o2: pwned**

* * *

"I am finding this task rather perplexing…"

"No shit. You've only gone and got the yellow side all screwed up. Do you have any _idea_ how long it took me to do that?!"

"I am very sorry for impeding your progress, Light-kun."

"No you're not," Light replied bitterly, shoving the underweight detective in his side with a nifty manoeuvre a la his elbow. That rash move was probably going to add another percent onto the overall Kira total but Light honestly couldn't bring himself to care at that moment in time. It had taken him _ten minutes_ to line up all the yellow cubes like that. _Ten whole minutes_. And then of course L had to come along and wreck everything in little more than ten whole seconds.

Bitch.

"No, I'm not. How very perceptive of you," the detective stated in his usual monotone, rolling his eyes at Light's stupidity; a movement that was made even more expressive due to the panda-esque bags below them. "I am not sorry in the slightest because Light-kun was not doing it correctly."

"Well if _you're_ so smart why don't _you_ do it?!" the auburn-haired boy yelled in frustration, temper now reaching its peak as he threw the cheap, plastic little cube of doom at the detective's unruly bed-head.

However, by some divine miracle of nature the Rubik's Cube was not immediately engulfed by the aforementioned bed-head; instead, L managed to catch it mid-air with his long, spidery fingers, clutching it to his chest like a talisman.

"Up one percent for attempted murder."

"With a _Rubik's Cube_?"

"They could make very efficient weapons if used correctly."

"For God's sake, anything could make an efficient weapon if used correctly! I mean, look at this pen," the frustrated murder suspect proclaimed, fishing forth from one of his pockets a simple blue biro. "I could stab you with this right now if I really wanted."

L leaned forwards, interested; "So does that mean Light-kun has been contemplating my immediate demise?"

"Of _course_ I have. You're annoying."

"Was that a confession that you, Light Yagami, are, in fact, Kira?"

"Yes," Light replied, voice heavily sarcastic. "I'm afraid you got me. I am Kira. Now give me the damn Rubik's Cube."

"I thought Light-kun did not want it, otherwise why would he have thrown it at my person with so much force?"

"I want it back _now_ so I can finish it and beat you."

"Light-kun is such a child."

"And L-kun is such a bitch," Light repeated childishly.

"I do not bear any resemblance to a female dog," L retorted, still nibbling on his fingernails as though there _weren't_ dirt and germs and other sorts of unmentionables stuck up there, festering merrily, a _breeding_ ground. "Maybe you should move that blue piece there-"

"Like I'm going to take orders from _you_!"

"Move the blue piece there, Light-kun."

"No!"

"_Yes_!"

"No!"

"_Yes_!"

"No!"

"Liiiigggggghhhhhhhtttttttttt!!" squealed an unexpected voice rather suddenly, the banshee-like shrieks enough to make both detective and suspect jump as though they'd both been electrocuted; the Rubik's Cube they'd been fighting over shot out of their entwined hands like a bar of soap and arced gracefully across the room, landing with a 'thunk' before a heavily-buckled, killer-high-heeled, _maaaajorly_-'goffick' boot of one Misa Amane, teen fashion model, complete bubblehead.

"Duuudddeeeee…" the complete bubblehead whispered, bending forth to retrieve the poor Rubik's Cube with a handful of long, manicured, pumpkin-painted fingernails. "I love these things! They're like tha _bomb_. Totally hardcore, yanno?"

And, within the space of about five seconds, Misa Amane had clacked, clicked and clunked the various cubes into place, throwing the finished product down at the feet of both boys with an air of triumph.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter!" the Gothic Lolita grinned, voice as bouncy as the pigtails bobbing up and down on her pretty little head. "Two super-intelligent guys like you – I bet you could solve it _wayyyy _quicker than me, right?"

Light and L turned to look at each other, both dumbstruck at the bizarre situation they found themselves in.

"Did… Did we just get pwned by Misa Amane…?"

"Yes, Light-kun. I think we very much did."

They both shuddered, waiting for the apocalypse.

* * *

**a.n: misa pwns l and light and life goes on xD yus, the whole collection will not be l/light, but they will all have both of them interacting with each other D yay. hmn, this oneshot seems like it was rushed even though it took like an hour…**


	3. death note

**better than heart attacks  
****o3: death note**

* * *

Misa Amane and Light Yagami were giggling.

Well, no, that statement was not technically accurate.

_Misa Amane_ was the one guilty of giggling, hot pink lips glossy and highly 'kissable', blonde pigtails flipping up and down with every minute head movement. From an angle those golden locks seemed to glint like a halo, caught under the cheap lighting of the empty classroom.

Light Yagami, on the other hand, was _not_ giggling; he firmly believed himself to above such 'girly' things (painting Misa's toenails was only a one-off, he assured everyone with vehemence).

No, Light Yagami was laughing in a rather demented manner - a peal of raucous cackles brought about by a gradual build-up of well-concealed smirks and a few choice sniggers. He was prone to erupting like that.

At the sound of their mirth and merrymaking, Ryuzaki found he just _had_ to pause in the threshold of that classroom, idly wondering why he suddenly felt suspicious of the boy and girl.

It wasn't like it was strange to find the pair hanging around in deserted classrooms. Light, being a genius, often tried to distance himself from the general student body because he considered himself 'above' them (not that he would ever admit to such arrogance himself, but Ryuzaki had known Light too long).

And, even though Misa wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box – a few fries short of a Happy Meal, more like – she was still fairly clever as far as giggly, Gothic Lolita oddballs went, and had been following Light diligently ever since first grade and he'd asked her to "pass me the glue, please."

So, nothing was amiss there, then…

The high-pitched giggling/maniacal laughter wasn't that odd, either. Misa giggled all the time; she was a girl and it just went with the territory. And Light was a genius, as mentioned before, and they were all a little deranged in the brain.

Ryuzaki could attest to that himself, as his strange mannerisms seemed to be a direct result of his above-average intelligence. Light was pretty damn _normal_ for a teenage Einstein in that respect –_ he_ didn't eat through bag after bag of raw, granulated sugar and _he_ didn't stay up until all hours so he staggered around school the next day like a zombie, prominent bags under his eyes.

The only thing that was slightly _off _about the whole deserted classroom/maniacal laughter situation was the fact they seemed to be hunched over something (something small and black… A notebook, perhaps?) and Light had a pen in his hand.

Well, this just wouldn't do at all.

Light and Misa couldn't share some private joke without first alerting their _other_ best friend, third corner of the triangle, final member in their exclusive little group of social rejects. It wouldn't be just or fair at all, would it?

Ryuzaki had put up with Light's uber drama-queen moments and Misa's incessant chatter about hair/make-up/clothes/celebrities/celebrities' hair, make-up and clothes for roughly twelve years now, and he believed he had every right to know what was the cause of such hilarity.

"What are Light-kun and Misa-san doing?" inquired the eccentric teen in his normal manner (blunt and to-the-point; no idly side-stepping around the subject for _him_).

These words prompted quite an… _Interesting _reaction, to say the least.

Light's crazy laughter died at the back of his throat, trailing away to a few retches and coughs as a bitter taste quickly kindled on the tip of his tongue. At the same time, a lovely light-pink blush spread across his cheeks, something that had never happened since that time in third grade when he accidentally stapled his thumb to Ryuzaki's sweater (how _that_ had happened was anybody's guess).

Misa, at least, had enough sense to grab the cause of commotion off the tabletop and hug it to her ample chest, but not enough sense to actually put it away before Ryuzaki reached her.

There, clasped in Misa's pumpkin-painted talons, sat a notebook.

_Just as I suspected… _Ryuzaki thought, rather proud of his immaculate eyesight (apparently, the lack of sleep and obvious bags did not hinder him in the slightest).

The notebook sat in Misa's arms rather innocently as most notebooks do, for it s not in the nature of a notebook to sit up and do cartwheels or perform the Russian ballet. It was perfectly normal, from what Ryuzaki could gauge; hard-backed, average size, words scrawled across the front cover in Light's handwriting.

Death Note.

_Hmn_.

"What is inside the notebook that Misa-san possesses?" Ryuzaki asked, head tilted slightly to one side in curiosity. His own innocence seemed to far outshine that of the notebook's, which was a feat in itself considering the notebook was an inanimate object and, therefore, physically unable to commit acts of sin or atrocity.

It still seemed suspicious, though, and that suspicion was later confirmed when Light cleared his throat and said "Notebook? What notebook?"

Well, wasn't _that _convincing?

Ryuzaki was almost disappointed in Light; he was meant to be a genius, surely he could think of a better cover-up than that? It felt almost like an insult.

"The notebook that Misa-san is holding," Ryuzaki elaborated, making a stabbing gesture at Misa's chest as he did so, a gesture that could've caused rumours about him being a pervert for years to come. "The one that was the cause of so much joy prior to my arrival?"

Two blank stares.

"The notebook entitled 'Death Note'?" Ryuzaki prompted, watching as Light's face flushed again like an over-ripe tomato.

"Oh, yes, _that_ notebook!" the boy declared, as though it was the first time he'd seen it in his life. "Well, um, it's got my… It's got my English vocab in it, hasn't it Misa?"

Ryuzaki did not miss the 'subtle' elbow Light drove into Misa's side at those final words, nor the way the girl squealed her frantic little "yes!"es between hushed cries of pain of agony.

"Your English vocab?" Ryuzaki asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"It's not polite to lie to your friends, Light-kun. You will have to think of a better explanation than that, I'm afraid," Ryuzaki said simply, eyes boring a hole straight through Light's head. "Now, let me ask the question one more time, and _don't_ think you lie to me again; you pull the strangest faces when you're being dishonest. Now, Light-kun. What is inside the notebook that made you laugh that is entitled 'Death Note' that Misa-san is holding?"

Light paused, face crumpling up like a paper cup as he attempted to think of a suitable alibi (it was his _Latin _vocab book, perhaps?).

"Light-kun, you're pulling strange faces," Ryuzaki told him flatly, tapping his fingers against the graphitized table top (apparently, according to very reliable sources, Mello 'woz ere 2008' and Naomi 'iz sooooo fit i wud totalli do er XDDD').

"Oh, _fine_!" Light declared very dramatically, snatching the notebook from Misa and slamming it down on the tabletop so hard the poor, abused piece of furniture shook and Ryuzaki very nearly lost a few fingers. Luckily, his amazing reflexes had allowed his poor digits a chance to escape to safe confines of his mouth before any unnecessary amputation took place. "Me and Misa, we were writing down the names of all the kids here we hate and how we'd kill each one off if we got the chance, OK?!"

"Hmn… Light-kun is a homicidal maniac – why doesn't _that _surprise me?" Ryuzaki asked in an almost conversational way, flipping through pages of the notebook slowly. "You would strangle Takada with her own intestines and dump her body in a lake to rot?"

"Well, _yeah_ – she smirked at me!" Misa said defensively, crossing her arms. "_Twice_. And she totally hit me on the head with the volleyball in PE! You know, I wrote my PE teacher's name down there as well. She doesn't let me wear my crucifixes _or _my favourite earrings! Bitch…"

"It would appear Misa-san is also a homicidal maniac. Well this is unfortunate," Ryuzaki sighed, still flipping through the notebook (and silently awing over the sheer amount of names in there. Surely, between the two of them they'd got down almost three quarters of the student body, plus the teaching staff and dinner ladies. And the causes of death were all pretty horrific as well, slowly getting more and more creative – and biologically impossible - as they went along). "You know," Ryuzaki continued, dropping the book back onto the desk, "it was very immature and childish of you two to do such a thing. You both know that, right?"

"Right, Ryuzaki…" Light and Misa mumbled simultaneously, the guilty party both hanging their heads in shame.

"Good. I'm glad you realise that. Now… May I borrow your pen, Light-kun?"

"Why? I thought you said it was immature and childish," the auburn haired boy said, scuffing his shoes against the cheap lino floor of the classroom.

"I did. But…" Ryuzaki smiled, reaching for Light's pen, "I guess it's a good thing I'm immature and childish as well, isn't it?"

* * *

**a.n: yay, au highschool l, light and misa :D i think they're very cute being best-of-friends likes this. hmn, expect more au oneshots. they're fun xD and i have dedicated this oneshot to ****lamatikah**** because she's cool like that and makes me write. **


	4. impressionist

**better than heart attacks  
o4: impressionist**

* * *

"No, no, no – don't _slash _at your paper like that, Light! Look, you're getting paint _everywhere_!"

"You've done a lovely job on the outline, Misa, but perhaps you could try a little harder on the shading?"

"Matt, I'm only going to tell you this one. More. Time. Put your gameboy _away_ or I'll give you a detention."

"Naomi! Stop making kissy-kissy faces at Raye from the across the classroom and concentrate on your work, please."

"Mello, are you drawing on the tables? No? You better not be, for the sake of your future offspring."

"MATT. GAME. AWAY. NOW."

"Ryuzaki, would it kill you to sit properly in your chair? If you fall over and crack your head on the floor I'm going to make your corpse clean up the mess afterwards."

"Raye, stop encouraging Miss. Misora or I'll make you finish your work in the supply cupboard. **Don't **tell me what's legal and what's not – I'm the teacher, _I_ make the rules. Got it?"

"Mello, _leave the fucking table alone or I'll carve 'wedy woz ere' into YOUR HEAD!_"

"Matt. Get out of my classroom before I castrate you."

"Ahhhh. Beautiful. Simply beautiful. You did a _wonderful_ job," Miss Kenwood – irate art teacher, Barbie doll look-a-likey and every teenage boy's wet dream – sighed. And, with a click of her very high-heeled shoes that were a tad _too _sexy for somebody who had to tell Near not to eat his glue/paper/paint on a daily basis, she came to a halt before the small sanctuary of Kiyomi Takada's table; a simple garden of tranquillity framed by a jungle of ugly, pointy thorns.

Kiyomi Takada's table was a truly _wonderful_ place; a place where Light did not knock pots of paint over his best friend (one Ryuzaki, supreme weirdo, never sat in his damn chair properly much to Miss Kenwood's fury) and Naomi did not try to make out with her boyfriend when nobody was looking and Matt did not play. On. Those. **Damn**. **Games**.

Takada's table was not filled with raucous laughter and shrill cries of "Miss! Miss! _Miiisssssssss_!". Infact, Takada's table had only ever been home to two things and two things only for the full duration of Miss Kenwood's stint teaching the seniors how to put a pencil to paper without stabbing themselves.

Takada, and Takada's creativity.

In other words, Takada was a smarmy little teacher's pet with more talent in her little (purple-painted) fingernail than everybody else in the whole art room combined and Misa Amane was sick of it – sick, sick, _sick_.

"I hate Takada," Misa muttered darkly from behind her easel, angrily daubing paint so her self-portrait grew a deformed, turnip-like nose. "Awww _poo_. My nose doesn't look like _that_!"

"I could break it for you if you want," Mello replied in tones as dark as the (female) blonde's herself, scratching his name onto the underside of his table with a compass and idly popping bubbles of strawberry flavoured gum. He might as well; Miss Kenwood wasn't looking. She was too busy sunbathing in Takada's warmth, beauty, charisma, creativity, etc, etc, excuse me while I'm sick discreetly in the corner.

"Why would I want you to break my nose?" Misa asked, colouring her hair in a happy, sunshiny-yellow colour. Yay - sunshiny joy for all!

"So then it'd look like it does in your picture.

"Hmn?"

"You know. Fucked up."

Mello probably deserved that black eye. Hell, he deserved a _lot _more than that – he deserved to have his whole face slashed to ribbons and his body turned into a mince pie. Maybe _several_ mince pies. Misa was feeling particularly vindictive that day, a vindictiveness which had increased tenfold ever since Miss Kenwood sang Takada's praises and left the hyperactive part-time fashion model with some crappy constructive criticism about _shading_.

Several mince pies it was, then.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, as the case may be) Light managed to grab Misa's flailing arms mid-way through one of her inner monologues about exactly how many pies she could make from Mello, his height, weight and bone structure all taken it account.

With a martyred sigh and a roll of his eyes, Light managed to pull the girl back to her easel as effortlessly as if she were a packet of potato chips, all the while entertaining the thought that she was so skinny that was probably all she ate in a day; a packet of chips.

"Misa, leave Takada and Mello alone. Mass murdering is frowned upon in most countries," Light said in an almost conversational manner, biting his lip as he attempted to get his beautiful auburn locks completely _perfect_. He was well aware he was fighting a lost battle on the whole hair front, though – really, he was so attractive it was impossible to find any _paint _that could possibly portray such utter gorgeousness.

He supposed one could always hope.

"You're no fun, Light-o," Misa giggled light-heartedly at the childish nickname, flicking a few spots of bright blue paint at her bestest best friend in _allllllllllllll_ the world. Maybe even her bestest best friend in _every_ world, because Misa highly doubted she'd ever meet any alien as handsome and cool and street-wise as Light Yagami.

"And you're as annoying as hell, Misa-Misa," Light retorted with a sly grin, sending a few arcs of crimson colour through the air onto Misa's numerous frilled, black, lacy, netted and ribbon'd Gothic Lolita skirts with a deft flick of his wrist as he did so.

"And you tuck your school shirt in, Mr. I'm-a-gay!" A stuck out tongue, a few splotches of purple.

"And _you_ have the mental capacity of a goldfish, Sluterella." A smirk, _lots_ of splotches of bright salmon pink.

"And _you _once spent three hours organising your sock drawer!" Orange.

"And _you_ had a mental breakdown in the mall because Naomi bought the last copy of Hideki Ryuga's latest CD!" White.

"And _you_ once tried on your sister's favourite miniskirt when you thought nobody was at home!" Yellow.

"And _you _tried to drink a bottle of nail varnish remover 'cause you thought it was lemonade!" Green.

"And _you_ like so totally have the hots for Ryuzaki!" A _lot_ of giggles, a gasp from both Light and Ryuzaki and a whole pot of black paint upturned over the dark-haired boy's picture courtesy of a few squeaks, squeals and flailing limbs, the whole thing narrated via back-and-forth banter between Light, Misa and Ryuzaki that went that a bit like this;

Light: OMG! TAKE THAT BACK, YOU LYIN' BETCH!

Misa: OMG! SO NOT TAKIN' IT BACK, YA BOY-LOVIN' WHORE!

Ryuzaki: Oh my God. You two just ruined my work, you incompetent fools.

"Well… I dunno…" Light said cautiously, leaning forwards to get a better look at his friend's ("love interest, Light!" Misa later corrected him with a swift kick in the shins) 'interesting' picture. "You could just say you did it in the style of the impressionists…"

"Really?" asked Ryuzaki, voice dubious as he tilted his head to get a better look at his work; a huge sheet of paper, not an inch of it white anymore due to a load of spidery, black, criss-crossing patterns that threaded together to make a most intricate web of… Well…

"I think it looks like crap."

Well, at least Misa always told the truth.

* * *

**a.n: more highschool au, more humour xD not as much l & light interaction. i'll do more of that soooon, I promise :D so do you guys know who the teacher is? tis not an oc. & bleh, this took far to long to write… i hope you like it.**


	5. paranoia

**better than heart attacks  
****o5: paranoia**

* * *

Light can't sleep.

The room is too warm, the four walls too close together and every time he blinks they keep on getting closer; a prison cell. Hell on earth (but there's no such thing as hell, is there?)

A chill touches on every single vertebrae of his spinal column, his breathing is erratic and it's so warm – too warm – and ever so s l o w l y paranoia begins to sink in; spreading like a disease.

He's being watched, just like last night and the night before; _every single night since he died_. Maybe even before that – before him and before Misa and before Kira and before the Death Note; a time way back when that he can barely even remember, all sepia-tainted like an old photograph.

A time when he was just Light, a serious student with perfect grades, perfect hair and a strong sense of justice. No more, the end, full stop. Period.

But he's not just Light anymore – he's Kira now (saviour, salvation, _God_) and Kira shouldn't feel so uneasy in his own room in his own house but he _does _because he can see the eyes everywhere; large and blank and staring (and_ endless_).

The nights seem endless, even with his arms around Misa listening to her breathing, hearing her heart hum reassuringly in her ribcage because fantasy gets mixed up with reality until he's not quite sure who he's holding anymore.

Light wonders if she's dreaming about him.

He never dreams about her.

He never dreams at all.

He can only see those horrible (beautiful) eyes watching and waiting and ready to reel off random percentages and he knows it shouldn't matter – it _doesn't _matter – because he's won; every single opponent has fallen and Kira holds the whole world in the palm of his hand, Kira holds the prettiest fashion model in Japan (maybe even the _world_) in his arms and Kira wields divine judgement over anybody – everybody – so why does he feel so fucking paranoid?

Misa sighs softly in her sleep from time to time. Her head is nestled awkwardly in the hollow between Light's head and shoulders. Her catlike nails are digging uncomfortably into exposed skin and her childish mewls hang delicately in the air like fragile porcelain – fragile.

Misa is fragile. Her bracelets barely hang off her wasted wrists, one could count every single one of her ribs through her paper-thin skin and they say she's pretty (gorgeous, even) but she's not she's not she's not.

(And he knows why she starves herself but he doesn't have the heart to tell her it's all in vain. Nothing she can do would ever make him love her, not in the way she wants him to.)

Light knows that this all wrong – this scenario and this couple - because they don't fit together at all. It's like a jigsaw, only some pieces are missing and none of the remaining ones fit; some stupid child tries to make them do so but they just buckle and break and eventually they just give up because it's easier that way.

Light knows one day Misa's going to give up because it's easier than way; she's hurting so much she's barely even human anymore.

"Light…" the fashion model murmurs, ever prone to sleep-talking – and Light can't help but remember that Sayu used to do that as well - and her arms pull him closer and closer; entrapping, encircling, ensnaring.

They root him down to the Earth like a flower in soil; a rotting world that he tries so hard to clean up. A rotting world that he wants no part of anymore.

And yet still Light pulls her closer because sometimes, if he's feeling a tad depressed, he can close his eyes and imagine she's somebody else; cold and lifeless, perhaps, but those beautiful obsidian optics are always wide and staring.

Light doesn't sleep and Light doesn't dream, but if he did he knows exactly who he'd dream about-

(_and whenever Light says "I love you" he's never talking to _her _and maybe she knows this because she cries at night sometimes_)

-and it's not Misa Amane.

(_and the paranoia starts to sink in because_)

She knows it never will be.

* * *

**a.n: had this idea for a while but couldn't write it because i got stuck on the angst-ness. but it's not humour… yay? xD & i made it so light doesn't hate misa, but cares for her more like a sister. & this also very ooc emo of light and misa, but oh well…**


	6. prayers

****

**better than heart attacks  
****o6: prayers**

* * *

Mello had some rosary beads-

-(_used_ to have some rosary beads, because L isn't too sure anymore).

They were beautiful, if nothing else. Five decades exactly, ten beads to a decade, butterscotch in colour and made of amber.

Amber was only a semi-precious stone but, when the blond boy strung the beads through the gaps in his fingers and let inaudible prayers fall from his parted lips ("_hail Mary, our Father_") it was obvious – almost painfully so – that the rosary beads were anything but _semi_-precious to Mello.

Rather, they were a pivotal part of life.

Whenever Mello had been in a fight and his eyes were stinging and heart pounding and fists bruised – sometimes bloody - he would run his fingers those beads, worn and rounded, and pray and pray and pray like it was all he was born to do; _hail Mary, our Father, hail Mary, our Father, hail Mary our Father…_

_Amen._

* * *

Mello had a nervous tic in one eye-

-(_used_ to have a nervous a tic in one eye, because L isn't too sure anymore).

He was sat – nay, sprawled – in his chair, slightly arrogant in the way that he speared his chocolate against pointed canines; crunch, crunch, crunch.

"Well, are we gonna get this over and done with or _what_?" he had demanded, bitterly so. Still, L was not a detective for nothing, and keen eyesight had already found cracks in that self-defiant mask; the twitching eye, the forceful bites and those beautiful beads (five decades exactly, ten beads to a decade) that were wound round and round his fingers like smoke from a fire.

They sparkled butterscotch, smooth and sleek, polished with the near-constant caress of fingertips and small flutterings of anxiety.

And, despite the detached look on his face, Mello was shaking (Mello was shaking _so _much). Words, casual, were tossed about the room – "So have you decided who's gonna be your successor?" – but inside his head looped a steady mantra of _hail Mary, our Father, hail Mary, our Father, hail Mary our Father…_

_Amen._

* * *

Light had death in his eyes-

-(_used_ to have to have death in his eyes, because L isn't too sure anymore).

The boy was curled up in bed, back arched, catlike, stance unusually defensive. _What are you hiding, Light? What are you hiding? _- one thumb pressed to his lower lip, arms round his knees, staring blankly.

L remembered Mello from a handful of years ago. Knuckles grazed and bloody (Roger oftentimes said that they seemed to be a permanent feature, almost programmed into his gene pool) with that bored look on his face, pretty beads – pointless beads – running through his fingers like quicksilver.

L had been intrigued, leaning forth in puzzlement. One word, just one word – "Why?", and Mello, face hidden, merely replied with a soft "Because I like to hope."

_Hope_. L was a detective and L did not hope; rather, he relied on facts, figures and solid evidence (and yet…) Light-kun was so very pretty, just like Mello's beads (thick lashes harsh against his pale skin and butterscotch hair pooling across the pillow). Somehow, unbidden, pale digits began to twine through those chestnut locks, foolish words not meant for anyone's ears following these gentle movements. "I really hope you're not Kira, Light-kun," and inside his head he was praying; _hail Mary, our Father, hail Mary, our Father, hail Mary our Father…_

_Amen._

* * *

**a.n: yayyy D it featured mello and his rosary beads. i like mello – he is teh shizz. and fluffy l/light crap as well. might not do that many more of these, as i am struck for ideas xD**


	7. jellybean cocoa

****

**better than heart attacks  
****o7: jellybean cocoa**

**

* * *

  
**It was a horror film.

Light had been a bit bemused when the pretty blonde shoved _that_ under his nose – dark front cover and gothic font, blurb on the back promising blood by the bathtubful – when she could've chosen one of the brightly-coloured, romance-flavoured, happy-happy-joy-joy chick flicks that were scattered about her room. Misa was such a _girl_ that it seemed only fitting she'd want to watch a film made for those with the XX chromosome, but no.

Light often forgot that, apart from her giggly demeanour and helpless romanticism, she was a _goth_. Gothic Lolita, to be more precise. That is to say, she was rather morbid and had an odd fixation with black clothes, crucifixes and soul-eating zombies.

"Shall we watch the film, Light?" Misa had giggled as her boy friend (with a very, very, _very_ big gap between the two words) blinked vacantly at the front cover. However, despite his blood-and-guts induced stupor, the ever-perceptive Light did _not_ fail to notice that she hadn't included Ryuzaki in the general film-watching equation.

Too bad he was going to be watching it anyway, considering he was chained to Light 24/7.

Maybe Misa was simply trying out a new technique to deal with raccoon-eyed detective, the whole 'if I ignore it, it'll go away!' line of reasoning.

"It's okay if you get _scared_, Light-kun," Ryuzaki grinned, and Light couldn't help but note that smiling was not an expression that became him – it was rather creepy, actually. And that heavy sarcasm probably wasn't healthy, either, sort of like all those sweets he ate. "If you want you can sit in my lap and look away from the scree-"

"Watch it, _Ryuzaki_," Light hissed, tugging on the chain that connected them, "or I am going to take those jellybeans out of your hands and shove them in a rather nasty place that I will refrain from mentioning due to my natural good manners and charm."

L leant forwards, mouth already open in order to retaliate with a '3.2424 percent, Light-kun', or some other equally ridiculous percentage he'd made up on the spot, but was halted in the form of Misa and some rather scary music.

"Kyahhhhhhh!" the blonde had squealed, throwing herself, and Light (and, consequently, Ryuzaki) down against the sofa like dominoes. "Come on, Light, the movie's about to start!" And, noting the look of discomfort on his face (a few of his fingers were twisted rather uncomfortably under L's thigh), "awww, its okay if you get _scared_, Light! If you want you can sit on my lap and look away from the scree-"

L started to snigger, and Light resisted the urge to hit him.

* * *

As luck would have it, the rest of the film passed without much incident, save for Misa giggling at a few of the messier, more horrific scenes and Ryuzaki, thumb in his mouth, muttering, "people _don't _bleed that much" at fairly frequent intervals.

After two hours of happy maiming, the zombies were finally vanquished by a teenage girl with _huge_ bosoms, too much make-up, gothic attire and some holy water, thus plunging the room into silence, save for L munching on some popcorn (_all _the popcorn) and a few jarring notes that played during the credits.

"That was like totally cool! I loved Amaya's clothes," Misa grinned inanely, head seeming super glued to Light's side (Light was not sure how and when it got there considering the whole film had passed by like a daydream for him, blurry at the edges with no underlying plot or theme).

"Hey, hey, hey!" Misa suddenly exclaimed, words exploding from her mouth like fireworks. She instantly detached her head from Light's side, all the while flailing her arms in excitement as an Epic Idea hit her pretty blonde noggin. It was sort of like the apple and Isaac Newton but much, much, _much_ cooler, because Misa was completely amazing and all that jazz.

"What is it, Misa-san?" inquired L, voice fraught with wintry good manners. "Are you having a heart attack? Are these, perhaps, signs that are exhibitied by the victims of Kira?"

"No, you _weirdo_," Misa frowned, coiling her hair round (and round and round) one of her fingers, the nails recently manicured and painted pumpkin. "I just had an Epic Idea is all."

"Well, that really is a cause for celebration," L muttered, Misa failing to notice the obvious sarcasm in his voice – '_you, having a decent, semi-coherent train of thought? Incredible_.' **That** was what L was really insinuating, and Light may have hit L for his callousness if he himself had not secretly been thinking the same thing.

"Exactly! I just thought we could play this really _cool_ game, like getting to know each other better!" And, oblivious in her state of delirium, Misa failed to notice the looks being cast around her – L, fairly amused, and Light, fairly disturbed. "Saaayyyy… _Well_, if a load of zombies were taking over the Earth with eerie occult powers and crazy-cool crap like that, what would you do?"

"I would turn the television off, Misa-san."

"_Nooooo_!" the fashion model blinked, nailing L between the eyes with a pout and a stare. L, unfazed, stared right back, doe-eyed. The spitting image of innocence. "I mean, if zombies were taking over the Earth being all crazy-cool like I said so a'fore, and you had to repopulate the otherwise desolate planet with one person, who would it be? Me or… Me or Matsuda?!"

Light snorted at the thought. Truth be told, he couldn't imagine L with _anyone_, male or female. If such a scenario really did come about then Light could only assume that the whole of humanity would die out.

L, surprisingly enough, paused. He methodically started to line up his jellybeans on the coffee table, going across in lines of colour; red, pink, orange, yellow, green, blue. His eyes were large, skilful fingers carefully arranging a curved arc of colour, seeming to think about the question seriously _and_ the implications of each answer.

"Well…" he said, toting more pieces of candy across the glass tabletop, "from a biological point of view, it would only make sense if I chose Misa-san because she is in possession of a womb and ovaries. But, not taking such things into account, it's hard to choose because both are so exceptionally annoying. But Misa-san is less clumsy than Matsuda-san, and not nearly as forgetful; I doubt she would leave the children stranded in a ditch. So I suppose, if such a situation ever arose, I would rather procreate with Misa-san."

"Yay! Everybody loves Misa-Misa!" the blonde beamed. "Now it's _your_ turn to question me or Light, kay?!"

More questions followed, the answers of which were rather interesting; Light chose Sayu over his mother ("although what sort of _creepy_ question is that?"), Misa chose Mido over Higuchi ("he looks _just_ like Light!"), L chose Aiber over Wedy ("Wedy-san is the sort of woman who would sooner decapitate a baby than feed it"), Light chose L over Kira ("and I know what you're trying to do, so _stop it, _I'm not Kira"), Misa chose Mogi over Aizawa ("the strong, silent type, you know?!" _giggles_), L chose Light over Watari ("he's like a _father_ to me" "well you shouldn't have asked me to chose between my mother and my sister!") and Light chose…

"Go on, Light," Misa prompted, smoothing out imaginary creases in her many-layered, ruffles'n'laces attire. "Me or Ryuzaki?"

"I don't mind if you choose Misa-san over me," the spindly detective said, admiring his jellybeans. "It would only make sense, considering you and her are 'going out'." (Quotation marks could clearly be heard around the phrase 'going out', as if L found the whole idea rather ridiculous.)

"Hmn…" Light pondered, eyes dancing back and forth across the sofa; Misa, waiting on tenterhooks, L, completely indifferent.

It was an unexpectedly _hard_ question. Unexpected because, up until now, he had seriously doubted the blonde's ability to make him – _him_, Light Yagami, top-scoring student and hyper-intelligent teen extraordinaire – puzzle over _anything_.

And _what_ a puzzle this one was, like one of those white, one-thousand piece jigsaws – almost impossible. Would he rather spend the rest of eternity with a hyperactive goth who liked stripy socks and horror films or a stoic, slightly perverted detective who liked to reel of random percentages and call him a mass murderer?

Tricky. _Very _tricky.

"Hey, Ryuzaki?" Light asked, attempting to solve this problem the only way he knew how. Hopefully _without_ resorting to a kissing competition, because there was a high probability (if Light had been L he'd have been prepared to say at _least_ seventy percent) that Misa would gnaw his face off a la zombie from that _stupid _film.

Maybe goths thought that was an incredibly sexy gesture or something.

"Yes, Light-kun?" L inquired sweetly, rolling a red jellybean between the pad of his thumb and index finger.

"If you had a kid, what would you call it?"

L popped the candy-coated piece of confectionary in his mouth, swivelling it round and round. "Jellybean Cocoa," he replied without a second's hesitation, voice fragmented by the sound of gnashing teeth; one Mississippi, two Mississippi, and the poor jellybean was no more.

Light stared in horror at this display and then turned back to Misa, who was currently trying to burrow her head into his side like an earthworm.

"My _God_. You're both crazy – I'm not going to repopulate the earth with _either_ of you!" he cried, dazed slightly due to this Plot-Twisting Revelation, almost as amazing as Misa's Epic Idea (_almost_, but not _quuittee_).

"Oh. How sad," Misa sniffed, picking at the hem of her dress. "I thought Jellybean Cocoa was a _nice _name."

* * *

**a.n: light/misa/l friendship, yo.**


	8. symmetry

**better than heart attacks****  
o8: symmetry**

* * *

Light couldn't help but watch L out the corners of his eyes; it was a reflex, something he did via force of habit. He knew L did the same thing with him, anyway.

Despite the fact a constant façade of friendship (if a tad uneasy at times) was painted around the two, beyond the surface neither was content with the other's presence. It made Light feel _uneasy_, somehow, almost as though L's blank eyes could stare right through him, past the perfect Light Yagami and into the murky, untapped pool of demons that lay within, hissing and clawing. Such demons only made themselves tangible through crimson eyes and the harsh stroke of a pen – another death sentence – yet there were _there_, invisible to the world…

Not so to L, apparently.

"Is something wrong, Yagami-san?" inquired the detective, thumb pressed against the corner of his mouth. The other hand was diligently stacking sugar cubes in his coffee, one after the other.

Light winced as the pyramid grew larger and larger, hoping against hope that he wasn't planning to _drink _that. The brunet abhorred sugar, and the thought of _that_ hitting the back of his throat made him feel quite sick.

"No, nothing's wrong," Light reassured him with a charming smile. "Just tired." Yawning, he made to turn his full attention back to the television screen; unwittingly, his eyes strayed back to L once more.

L seemed to accept this reply with a curt nod, skin giving off an ethereal, other-wordly glow under the dim lighting of the hotel room. Eyes sunken, large as plates, he continued to guide perfect, geometric cubes through the air, atop of the rest; there they perched, not shaking in the slightest.

Light hated how sallow his skin was - he hated how empty his eyes were - he hated that absent-minded act and the trivial pleasantries they exchanged; he _especially_ hated how orderlyhe was, unconsciously stacking things – sugar cubes, facts, figures, whatever – into neat piles, clear groups, all meticulously labelled and underlined.

It was with a detached look that he handled the data, not caring for human emotion as he said, so coldly, "you are Kira". Of course, he was _right_, yet the lack of feeling behind such words irked Light somewhat. He claimed Light-kun was his friend, but Kira was his enemy, and so often it would revert back to being Yagami-san it gave the younger boy a headache.

L didn't care for feelings. L didn't care for _'friends'_. L cared for fact, solid fact. Accusations stacked on justice stacked on evidence stacked on fact, on and on in repeating layers to create an indestructible argument – a pyramid of sugar cubes.

Light didn't just hate L. He hated everything about him – _everything_. The idea of knocking down that pyramid flickered across his mind, but no – such a rash action would make him seem like a petulant child, a trait L connected with Kira. Not that he didn't one-hundred percent know Light _was_ Kira anyway, despite all those lies about three percent and the like in front of the task force. Either way, Light didn't want it to go up to one-hundred-and-_one _percent. Any more of that nonsense and he may hit him.

No, there had to be _another_ way of confusing detective; another way to get into his mind and knock down that pyramid - the metaphorical one that had been painstakingly built from vague flutters of suspicion and feelings of unease. That symmetric, methodical, metaphorical pyramid.

_But what…?_

"So, Yagami-san," L began, pushing 'off' on the remote, placed strategically on the arm of his chair. Following his actions there was a dull click and a hum, screen fading away hand-in-hand with the ugly lettering and mangled dub. The room was cast in virtual darkness now. "What did you make of that vide-mph!"

L's eyes widened to comical, manga-like proportions as Light's lips smashed into his. Instantaneously, all coherent thought was shattered, as though cast under a powerful enchantment.

Grinning against the detective's lips, Light leant in to deepen the kiss, hands finding L's shoulders. With little difficulty, for L's spine seemed to have turned to glue, Light pushed him back in his chair. Subsequently, his habitual crouch was transformed into the sitting position of a normal person – Light vaguely remembered something about his deductive ability dropping by forty percent, and was amused to how L's pale cheeks flushed at this revelation. His mouth formed a perfect 'o' of surprise, and Light used this to his advantage, now bringing his tongue into the equation – L was pushed further back as Light leant over him, dominating his mouth.

_Human contact..._

Finally feeling a burning sensation in his lungs, Light skilfully broke the kiss – his lips tingled with a sweet aftertaste, eyes roving across L's flustered face. A pale pink blush had manifested itself under that pale skin, a strange sight to behold. Light had always assumed that L was some sort of nobody figure, heart carved out and all.

Strange, for such an ashen person to hold so much blood.

The silence was thick, L's spindly fingers touching his lips cautiously, as though for fear of electrocution. Eyes clouded with _something_, he found his gaze lingering upon his once-upon-a-time perfect stack of sugar cubes.

They had fallen down.

Once Light had left, L frowned to himself, surveying the situation at hand. Of course, he could just _leave _them. And yet… A childish feeling stirred within him, the thought that the brunet would _win _if he allowed such a thing to happen… Win what, he didn't know, but he didn't like victorious smile on the teenager's face.

Diligently, L picked a sugar cube off the floor and started to rebuild, slowly and methodically throughout the night.

* * *

**a.n: a kiss. lawlz xD**


	9. falling

**better than heart attacks  
o9: falling**

* * *

Light could have sworn the sky dropped down a few shades on some giant, celestial colour chart the moment it happened. Cliché, yes, but from his point of view the most cliché of clichés were often rooted in truth, no matter how loosely the case may be.

All the teen knew was that mere seconds – _milliseconds _– after the event came to pass, the sky flipped almost instantaneously from bright sapphire to some sort of steely grey.

Light himself froze, eyes snapping over to the boy beside him with little thought to the world around him. However, the look on L's face was worth about a _thousand _apocalypses; wide eyes and heart-breaking surprise, it was almost enough to plunge everything into insurmountable darkness.

It was the very first time that Light had seen L look so shell-shocked, for the youth preferred to keep his emotions under lock and key. Light would even have gone as far to bet that aforementioned key had later been dropped down a well or swallowed by a large mammal.

The horror in L's face was so great the hairs began to stand up at the back of Light's neck, fingers subconsciously clenching and unclenching at his sides. He knew that something truly_ terrible_ must have happened in order to prompt such an unabashed look of horror in his friend's eyes. Something even more terrible than a telepathic mass murderer called Kira who could kill people indirectly using heart attacks, who just so happened to be Light himself.

The teen even managed to shove aside all those negative feelings he usually harboured towards the detective to ask him, oh-so-sincerely, "Ryuzaki?" What's wrong?" and, when that didn't elicit a response, "L? L, what's wrong?"

It seemed that the sheer shock of the situation had made the insomniac momentarily forget what his alias was before the task force and general public, for it was at the mention of his professional title that he looked up, normally blank eyes now swimming with grief.

"Light-kun… Something _terrible_ has happened." L whispered, as though saying it softly would reverse the fact that it had, indeed, happened.

Light could not help but flinch at these tones, for they promised great foreboding. However, overcome with curiosity, the teen allowed himself to lean forward and reply with an equally quiet "Yes?", anticipating some truly bloodcurdling news – perhaps L was going to admit that he was actually a vampire (he was certainly pale enough to be one), or Misa had turned into some sort of octopus and was having a jolly old time suffocating people with her tentacles, or he was going to confess his love to him via a touching haiku and a bouquet of crumpled roses, or, or perhaps… Perhaps…

"I dropped my ice-cream."

Now, it may have come as surprise to L, but behind his bloody eyes and god complex about a mile wide, Light Yagami was actually a very kind-hearted boy. And so it was, with a great feeling of satisfaction, that Light decided to give L something serious to angst about. Namely, a fist in his face. As such, the world righted itself, the sky turned blue once more, Light's knuckles started to bleed and L ordered Watari to go and get some more mint chocolate chip ("Perhaps with some chocolate sauce… And marshmallows… And some cherries…")

Because that was simply the way things were meant to be.

* * *

**a.n: based on this picture:  
http : / / crookedsixpence . deviantart . com / art / The-Tantrum-16917086**

**:D**


	10. tombstone

**better than heart attacks  
1o: tombstone**

* * *

Light's lips were soft against his, pleading and pressing and almost _desperate_ (but Kira did not beg). The burnet allowed himself a small sigh, lashes fluttering lethargically in a manner most reminiscent to Sleeping Beauty; slowly, they pressed flush against his skin, as though asleep.

His breath was hot, each touch _burned_, the intoxicating aroma of honey hung in the air. Fingers fisting in the detective's ebony hair, low moans – "_Ryuzaki… L…_" – and teeth, biting at his lower lip, insistent, almost painfully so.

L felt his skin smoulder, breathing heavily, eyes widened in surprise. L preferred to hide behind his title, his computer screen; white font and gothic letter. L did not want… ("_Ryu_-_" _breath hitching, heart pounding)

-L did not want _this_.

The older male stiffened, hands falling to the boy's chest as Light leaned, attempting to deepen the one-sided kiss- No, not Light. _Kira._

Kira smelt like honey and strawberry shampoo, yet Kira tasted of ash and graves and dead bodies. Was Kira truly alive – truly human – to judge those with no compassion? Did Kira have no more emotion than a corpse left to rot?

But the _world _was rotting. Of course, that was what Kira would say.

Kira, Light.

Light, Kira.

It did not matter which way round you looked at it, for they were one and the same. If you flipped a coin the side it landed on – the side it chose to fall on – held no significance in the greater scheme of things, because its counterpart was always, inescapably _there_. Bloody eyes, cruel smirks, soft lips…

Ashen lips – open graves.

"You know, Kira," L said, voice almost conversational; eyes wide, finger to lips, he grinned a very eerie grin. "If I wanted a kiss from death I would rather have asked Rem-san."

* * *

**a.n: it's short. oh noes! anyway, i had the last line in my head for ages, & i thought it would be really cool if l used it on light xD**


	11. masquerade

**better than heart attacks  
11: masquerade**

* * *

It was the smell of baking that had done it.

Despite the fact that Misa had announced oh ever-so-sunnily at six in the morning that she was going to borrow the kitchen for a bit, nobody had bothered to check up on her. There seemed to be no noises from Misa nor any of the expensive cooking equipment to suggest the girl was breaking and/or exploding things – rather, it had been the tones of some sappy love song on the radio that had drifted into the main room.

L had continued to sit in his habitual L-like manner, devouring sweet things and typing at a rough speed of one-hundred-and-twelve words per minute. Light had continued to drum his fingers against his desk, rolling his eyes at the obnoxious munching noises L was making and attempting to hack into some complex, heavily-guarded part of the Yotsuba database.

All in all, that morning had been fairly uneventful – Light got annoyed because his favourite pen had gone missing, L raised his Kira percentage by about 0.25 percent, Matsuda spilled coffee all over himself within five seconds of entering the building, Mogi shifted through random stacks of paper in a rather listless manner, L finished off sixteen packets of sour skittles and Misa continued to clatter pots and pans about in the kitchen, singing along to the radio.

Everything would've been fine if it had not been for the smell of baking. Truth be told, Light was forced to admit that the heavy aroma of pastries and the like was fairly intoxicating, but L was the greatest detective in the world _three times over_, for God's sake. The youth found it most unprofessional that he should be so enticed by the prospect of unhealthy food – hell, if somebody had yelled "strawberry cheesecake!" from fifty miles away he'd drool.

"There is some important business that I need to attend to. It could be crucial to the Kira case. Please excuse me," L said, bowing his head. And then, as an afterthought, "Come on, Light-kun."

Needless to say, Light was more than a little annoyed at being spoken to like some sort of _pet_, but what with the chain connecting his wrist to L's, he felt he didn't really have a say in the matter.

However, that didn't mean he couldn't feel pissed off.

"'Important business' to take care of, huh?" Light asked in rather sarcastic tones – maybe because he was still annoyed over the loss of his pen. It had been a _nice _pen and, somehow, he felt rather attached to it. "You just want to see what Misa's baking, don't you? Like hell this has anything to do with the Kira case…"

"On the contrary, Light-kun, this has _everything _to do with the Kira case," L replied smoothly, jerking Light along behind him with little regards for his well-being. "It gives me a chance to observe you."

"What?" Light asked, blinking very slowly. "You think knowing whether I like cookies or muffins is going to help you capture Kira?"

"No, but I _do _think Light-kun is being rather sarcastic. Sarcasm is something that stems primarily from anger or irritation – as this sarcasm is aimed at me, I can only assume that I have annoyed you somehow. Having a short temper is a very Kira-like trait, just like that the Lind L Tailor incident showed. You go up two percent." And, as an open-mouthed look of blatant disbelief fell across Light's face, "incidentally, Light-kun, which _do _you prefer? Cookies or muffins?"

A vein popped in Light's forehead.

"Up another one percent, Light-kun."

"Why, you little-"

"LIIIGGGHHTTTT!" Misa squealed, effectively cutting Light off before his rant could turn into a fistfight. "You came to visit Misa-Misa while she was baking! How _sweet_! I knew Light truly is the bestest-best boyfriend ever!"

"Indeed," L muttered, negotiating his way through the kitchen. Head tilted somewhat, he came to a rest beside the source of the smell – a tray of cookies, six rows with ten cookies going down each one, all carefully laid out exactly a few inches apart from one another. They had all been cut to resemble different objects – in one column, an array of grinning pumpkins. In another, a coven of witches on broomsticks.

"Oi! Don't touch those, Ryu-chan!" Misa snapped, morphing into evil dictator mode as she swatted L's spindly fingers away. "These aren't to be eaten until tonight!" And then, noticing L's downcast, kicked-puppy expression, "I made some normal ones, too. I'll go'n get 'em out the oven, kay. Just_ don't_ touch any of these while I'm gone. You look with your eyes, not your hands."

"Tonight? What's so special about tonight?" Light asked, completely disregarding Misa's wishes and picking up a cauldron-shaped cookie between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

Even though the cookies had cooled down somewhat, the brunet dropped it quickly. The sudden realisation that he begun to pick up L's odd mannerisms was a rather disturbing one – God, what if he started walking around barefoot and stopped brushing his hair? He'd end up like some sort of _hobo_!

Light was still cursing L inwardly when Misa returned from the oven with her promised tray of normal cookies, causing L's eyes to light up instantly.

"Don't snatch – careful, they're hot – hehe, told you so," Misa fussed, giggling slightly at L's childish antics. "Anywayyyy. Light. My gawd. Don't you know what today is?!"

"I'm afraid I don't. Would it be, by any chance, the vernal equinox?" Light asked, eyes rolling like the balls on a bagatelle board. Clearly, he didn't know what date it was and, moreover, he didn't _care_. Living at the headquarters for so long had made the days all run into one – it could've been early August or late December for all he knew.

"Nooooo, you silly!" Misa chastised, leaning forwards on tip-toe to ruffle Light's hair. "It's October the 31st. Candy. Dressing-up. Dead people. You know…?" Light continued to look blank. Misa sighed, and then decided to enlighten him. "Halloween."

"…Oh," Light said after a small pause, "and I care about this cheap, American holiday because?"

"Because it's funnnn!" the blonde supermodel tittered, patting Light on the head as though he suffered from a very serious mental condition. "I thought I'd decorate this place, you know, get a bit of a 'fun' vibe going on and, well… I found this _reeaalllyyy _cute pair of rabbit ears under my couch," and here she shot a bemused look at Ryuzaki, who was so busy eating his weight in candy he barely noticed, "and then decided: Halloween fancy dress party! Yay! Won't that be _fun_?!"

"Yes. Fun," L muttered in-between mouthfuls, nodding his head as though in approval. "I agree with the idea, of course. Thank you for suggesting it, Misa-san."

Light suppressed the urge to grab the whisk from the countertop and bludgeon himself to death with it. The prospect of mutilation and self-harm was far more entertaining than a Halloween party.

_What joy._

* * *

Although it may have been surprising to some people, Light Yagami – _the _Light Yagami, head-turner, heart-breaker and all round social butterfly – had never been to a party before.

Alright, scratch that. It was not just surprising to _some _people. It was surprising to everyone. Even his dad was shocked at this news, and he'd lived with the boy ever since Light was born (in-between numerous crime cases and an on-going string of late nights about a mile long, of course).

"But _Light_," Matsuda cried, voice most incredulous. This revelation must've been pretty damn big, because his mouth was hanging open and all (unless, of course, that was his normal look, which seemed just as likely). "Surely you _must _have been to at least one before in your life. I mean, you're eighteen!"

Not wanting to let Matsuda down, for doing such a thing was a bit like kicking a puppy, the teen responded with a, "Yes, if you're counting my sister's ninth birthday". Not that supervising a juvenile event in which Sayu ate too much cupcake icing and was subsequently sick was in any way comparable to the wild raving Matsuda had in mind for someone his age, but whatever. It was still a _party_, wasn't it?

With a forced smile, Light managed to avoid yet one more of Matsuda's questions by diving for the refreshments table slightly _less _gracefully than he would've liked. Out of eyesight, the boy allowed his smile to droop, and then wither, eyes scanning the table and its decorative fare with disgust.

Cookies and cupcakes, a vast plethora of fizzy drinks and just enough chocolate to render a dentist dead or unconsciousness – well, at least Ryuzaki would be happy. Speaking of which…

"Hello, Light-kun," greeted the detective in his usual bored manner, some sort of gingerbread concoction pinched between his thumb and index finger. "Were you going to sample one of Misa-san's cookies?"

"No," Light replied curtly, shooting a horrified look at the offending cookie in L's hand as though it would grow fangs and bite him.

"Why not?" L asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Because I don't trust Misa at the best of times, _especially _not in the kitchen. For all I know, she could've accidentally used arsenic instead of flour for all we know."

"Are you insinuating that you acted as Kira sometime during this day and commanded Misa-san, who is under suspicion of being the second Kira, to poison these cookies, knowing of my sweet tooth and hoping I would, subsequently, eat them?"

"Are you grasping at straws here or what?" Light asked irritably, already starting to lose his patience. That must have been some sort of world record – he was only five seconds into this conversation and already he wanted to hit something. Last time it had taken roughly a minute and three seconds before that familiar emotion came up. "I've been chained to you all day – or maybe you think I can clone myself?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," L murmured, eyes blank and staring. As if making some sort of point, the spindly youth proceeded to bite down on his cookie – hard - crumbs spraying everywhere as he did so. "So, Light-kun. Why aren't you dressed up? Everybody else is."

Alas, here was a fact that Light could not disprove. Yes, everybody _was_ dressed up, perhaps because the Halloween fancy dress party allowed for them to dispel some of the anxiety that had been running riot like the black plague. Attempting to catch a dangerous mass murder could completely rewire your 'have fun' vibe – not that Light had owned one of those to begin with. Even _Mogi _was dressed up (that is, if donning a pair of sunglasses and a reassurance that "I'm James Bond" counted as 'dressing up'.)

And then… Light paused, eyes snagging on L. He looked the same as ever, sallow face and messy hair, not even a pair of cheap sunglasses in sight.

"You're not dressed up either."

The hypocrite…

"Actually, Light-kun, I think you'll find yourself mistaken there," L replied, voice slow as though he were talking to someone with a mental illness. "I decided to go as something far scarier than a few hazy concepts of 'zombies' and 'vampires'-" to which Light had a strong urge to go "could've fooled me", for the deep bags under his eyes suggested otherwise on the living dead factor – "No, none of that. I decided to go as justice."

"Oh… How original," Light scoffed, folding his arms. He was just about to tell L to stick with the plastic fangs and cape – it would suit him more – but was quickly interrupted.

"Quite. And thus, this brings me to an important question. What are _you_ dressed as?"

"I'm not. I _told _you I wasn't going to dress up ages ago, or weren't you listening?"

"Well, that is strange," L muttered, pressing his thumb against his lower lip. It took Light all of five seconds to realise he didn't very much like that calculating look in his eyes... "I could have sworn you were going as Kira."

It was at these words Light froze – perhaps in fury, rage or fear, L didn't know (although he preferred to believe it was the last one. Either way, he was still going up three percent).

"W… _What_?!" asked the boy, eyes slanted. Perhaps it was all in L's head, but they seemed distinctly redder than before… More _dangerous_. Of course, L was completely unfazed by this – instead he smiled gleefully on the inside and allowed Light another two percent. Because he was feeling generous.

"I thought you were dressed up as Kira," L repeated, pressing his thumb a tad harder against to lips to conceal a smirk. "You seem to exude an air of… Hmn, how should I put this? _Malevolence_."

"Oh, come _on_," Light said, attempting to keep his voice low and calm. Attempting, and failing. Damn L. "You can't profile me on what I choose to wear to a stupid _party_!"

"I'm sorry to correct you, Light-kun," L said, in a voice that suggested he wasn't very sorry at all. "But I'm afraid I can. Your denial only strengthens my argument – and I never said you _were_ Kira. I only said you looked like him."

"But you don't know what Kira looks like!"

"True, but… I have always suspected that he would look like you."

"Is that so?" snarled Light, right eye twitching. "And what is your basis for that _very interesting _theory?"

L's eyes flashed. "Well, it's quite simple, really. All my thoughts on the matter stem primarily from one sole fact. That is… You _are_ Kira."

What transpired next was not Light's fault. Of course, it was _his_ fist that smashed into the detective's nose, but it was aforementioned detective himself that started it. Light was well aware that his reasoning was rather childish, but he really didn't give a damn – all that mattered was L and causing him as much pain as possible.

"Five percent, Light-kun," L said in his normal dull monotone, parrying the blow with his own fist-

"Ow! Shit!"

-and then kicking him in the head.

Meanwhile…

"Hey, Misa-Misa. Do _you _have any idea what they're fighting over?" asked Matsuda, watching with mild intrigue as L and Light tried to kill each other.

"Nooppe. Haven't a clue!"

* * *

**a.n: l and light love each other so much :D eh, this was just a bit of senseless fun. and it took place on l's birthday! i'm sure a giant bruise on his face was /just/ what he wanted. i mean, wouldn't you? light has a knack for getting people the best presents **


	12. 4o seconds

**better than heart attacks  
12: 4o seconds**

* * *

Light didn't hate L - no, that would be a gross exaggeration on his part. Rather, he hated everything _about_ him.

He hated how subtle lies, looks, questions could catch him so terribly off guard; break through his perfect, model student façade and poke around at the darker, deeper depths of his subconscious.

He hated his eyes, huge and blank and empty and _staring. _Always staring. Light could never discern whether those obsidian pupils were fixed upon Light or Kira; not knowing and second guessing.

He hated his voice, low and monotone despite the situation – blunt as always, so much so it hurt a little. ("Light-kun is my first friend" and then, later "I think I might be in love with Light-kun." And it always sounded exactly the same).

He hated his skin, how pale and ethereal it was. Oftentimes it seemed to glow, ashen and sickly, under the hum and glow of his computer. White, like snow in the early morning. And, just like snow, if you allowed yourself to become entangled, ensnared, entrapped, it would surely kill you.

He hated his fingers, the way they danced spider-like across his face, neck, shoulders, and how they grasped his hand when nobody was looking – a grasp that seemed tighter than iron. Metaphorical chains. Chains that cut and dug and _stung_ so much Light had to check his wrists afterwards to make sure they weren't rubbed raw and bleeding.

He most especially hated it when Ryuk watched them; a grin twisted across his ugly lips, teeth far too sharp – syringes – as he gazed at the top of L's head and muttered "tick, tock…" It seemed to be a hobby of his, his bulbous shinigami eyes affixed to L as though he were a particularly delicious apple-

"Tick, tock…"

-and Light would hold L a little tighter, while Kira laughed demonically - barely human himself. A monster. A monster with a pretty face to hide behind; sometimes, when Light saw his reflection, it was hard to look past the pain and gore and redredred. Even had to flinch a little.

Kira was going to kill L. That much was obvious. Ryuk's narrow-eyed stares and evil laughter was proof enough of that – watching, waiting, counting. Counting his life away…

"Tick, tock…"

And, as Light held the insanely beautiful detective in his hands one last time, the only thing he could hear was the blood in his head, the beat of his heart and the steady tick, tick tocking of a clock.

Counting his life away…

* * *

**a.n: i was listening to maximum the hormone whilst writing this. yay, shouting :D i think this collection is due for something lighthearted and au any chapter now… ****damn, this took like… 7 re-writes. –dies- its exact meaning is free for interpretation **


	13. vampires

**better than heart attacks  
13: vampires**

* * *

"So… _Light_," Takada smiled coyly, leaning against the heavily graffiti'd desk with an equally heavy lipstick'd smile. It was all too obvious that she'd been practising said smile in the girls' restroom only moments before. Her words, too, sounded rehearsed and mechanical - almost painfully so. Every pause was timed to perfection, just like every winsome blink and flutter of the lashes.

It was sort of sickening, actually.

"I hoping that you might... Hmn… Care to join me tonight for a meal? I know of a few nice restaurants; nothing too expensive. It could be like a… A date, I suppose. That is, if you wouldn't mind – I know how busy you are."

Light stared at Takada, face a delicate mask of blank incredulity. This was by no means an unfamiliar situation; it had been repeated many-a time before, each scenario exactly the same save for the girls. His number of wannabe-girlfriends and die-hard fangirls must be nearing the hundreds now.

Due to his all his experience, Light liked to think he was pretty good at tactful refusals.

"I'm very sorry, Takada-san," the brunet lied swiftly, "but I'm afraid I'm busy tonight. I've got a _lot _of homework-"

"That's okay, Light!" chirruped another voice. It was distinctly feminine, slightly _too_ high-pitched and a tad childish. It hardly took a genius to place Misa Amane's face to those words.

After all, she was the only girl at To-Oh who could shatter glass with her voice.

"Misa," Light said, acknowledging her presence with a curt nod.

"Light remembers me! Hehe!" the fashion model squealed, plonking her miniskirt-clad (though just barely) derrière down on the side of Light's desk with defiance, almost as if to say 'Light is mine. Back off, bitches'.

"What'd you want, Misa?" Light asked, attempting to keep his voice courteous. Every time he saw Misa it left him with a headache the size of Tokyo. Add one Kiyomi Takada, a handful of bitchy girl-hate and an all-out battle to capture Light's heart, and the boy's sanity didn't stand a chance. By the end of the day he'd be in an asylum, gibbering about the apocalypse and attempting to gnaw off his foot.

And he was in the _library_, no less. Light had assumed beforehand (wrongly, of course) that potential girlfriends wouldn't _dare_ follow him inside when it was such a sunny day. All the sporty, muscle-bound boys outside were bare from the waist upwards, attempting cool off; surely the girls would much rather ogle them?

Light had even asked _Ryuzaki _to sit with him, for God's sake!

Ryuzaki was Light's only 'friend', and even then the term was used loosely. He was a very strange creature, and most were surprised to learn he was even _human_; many students were still under the assumption that he was a vampire. That widespread belief was not completely implausible, however; Ryuzaki did exhibit many vampire-like tendencies, what with his white-as-a-sheet skin and quite-as-the-grave demeanour.

Light had been one hundred percent _certain _that Ryuzaki's unpopularity and pure, unadulterated weirdness would be enough to douse the passion of even the most enflamed fan-thing.

However, that did not seem to be the case.

"Well, you said you'vegot loads of homework, and I do too! Isn't that a strange coincidence?" Misa twittered happily, completely nonplussed at the murderous glares Takada was shooting her. "I'm not very good at Physics… Or Geography… Or English… Or anything, really! Perhaps I could come over to yours and we could… I dunno… Study?"

And of course, by 'study' Misa meant 'make out passionately in a cupboard (because cupboards made everything sexier. Somehow…) for a few hours until your parents and/or little sister find us!'.

God.

Not the first time in his short little life, Light was left wondering exactly _how _somebody with the mental capacity of a goldfish had passed the test for To-Oh university.

With flying colours, apparently.

_Now, if Misa would just exercise her supposed 'intelligence' on more arduous tasks than trying to get into my pants…_

"Light doesn't want to help _you_, Amane," Takada frowned, arms crossed and a rather lofty expression on her face. "Light would much prefer to spend his leisure time with people of his own calibre, wouldn't you, Light?"

"And what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" Misa squeaked angrily (or at least, as angrily as a five-and-a-half foot tall blonde model _could_ squeak). "I'm not stupid, or immature! FYI, little Kiyomi, I happen to be _older_ than you!"

"Age doesn't account for everything, you foolish child. When it comes to members of the opposite sex you still have a lot to learn."

"Yeah, 'cause _every _man wants a chick who dresses like my grandma and has a face like a trout!"

"Better that than having an immature, Smurf-sized _fashion model _who mistook a picture of Charles the Second for Vlad the Impaler!"

It was at this moment that Light disengaged from the real world, brain slowly slipping into a comfortably comatose state. Maybe he could bash Takada's skull in with his English notebook, and then stab Misa in the neck with his pen…

_Yeah, that'll be the day. When pens and notebooks can be used as vicious murder weapons…_

"-told you yesterday! Stop bothering Light, you two! I'm sure he didn't come into the library to hear you two shrieking at him."

Oh.

It was a new voice.

It was a new voice that spoke common sense.

Male, too.

_At least _this _person isn't going proclaim their undying love for me_, Light thought, feeling slightly more optimistic than he had done a few seconds ago. _With any luck, he'll scare those two off and I'll _finally _be able to enjoy the library in peace and qu-_

"Stay out of this, Mikami!" both women screeched at exactly the same time, the horrific sound oddly reminiscent of fingernails on a blackboard.

Well, wasn't _this _grand?

"Yeah, _everybody _knows you're totally gay for Light anyway!"

"But Light _isn't _gay. He's interested in girls. Especially girls who are so delicate and refined they've earned the prestigious nickname of Miss Todai!"

"I believe Light is free to make his own choices-"

"Exactly. So you're not gonna force yourself on him, you… You Light-whoring _nerd_!"

Screw headaches the size of Tokyo; right about now, he had one the size of Japan.

"LEAVE MY LIGHT ALONE, YOU STUPID BITCH!"

_And where the hell was the librarian, anyway?_

* * *

"L-Light-kun," Ryuzaki muttered, eyes wide(r) than usual; more like saucers than anything else, black bags even more prominent than usual.

Light twitched, toes curling in his battered-about sneakers. If Ryuzaki was stuttering, then this _must _be bad. At the worst of times his face remained stoic, like a brick wall.

So what came after the worst?

Even _more _worst?

_See,_ Light thought to himself. _Ryuzaki being surprised is so weird and un-Ryuzaki-like that its logic defying nature is screwing with common sense._

"What's wrong, Ryuzaki?" Light asked, though the question was completely unnecessary. Light knew what was wrong, his family knew what was wrong and, pretty soon, the whole _school _would know what was wrong.

Then maybe they'd all stay the hell away from him.

"Light-kun has…" Ryuzaki frowned, his thumb finding his lower lip (and, incidentally, his teeth. Any more demented chewing and the poor, abused digit would fall off).

There was silence.

A long, awkward silence, during which Ryuzaki directed his attention towards the floor. It was strange, but the eccentric teen seemed completely lost for words. The eyes were blinking and the mouth was moving, yet his brain seemed to have departed a long, long time ago.

"Do you like it? I thought, after yesterday, an update to my wardrobe was in order. It gets quite _tiresome_ being revered as a God, you know. Well, not that you _would_ know, considering nobody goes within three feet of you. They're scared, I think. Reckon you're going to claw their eyes out and sup from their jugulars of something, and that's _nothing _compared to the rumour that you ate your famil-"

"Light-kun…" Ryuzaki interrupted, voice slightly muffled to his thumb. "Light-kun does not realise how he looks?"

Light blinked.

Slowly.

Ryuzaki decided to elaborate.

"Light-kun… Light-kun has made himself look like _me_!"

And it was true.

The strange, bizarre, abnormal yet _completely _undeniable truth.

Last night, with nothing to keep him company saves for a pain in his head and a buzz in his ears, Light had decided he had to do something about his appearance. He was too damn attractive for his own good, and all the girls (and Mikami) were constantly pestering him; like flies, they buzzed around his head in numbers far too great to swat away.

But Ryuzaki…

Ryuzaki seemed to _repel _people, what with his strange appearance and quirky mannerisms. And therein lie the answer to Light's dilemma; he would have to dress, look and _act _like Ryuzaki!

It was quite simple, really.

"Is… Is this a joke, Light-kun?" Ryuzaki asked uneasily, tilting his head slightly so as to get a better look at Light's loose clothes and messy hair. Hell, he'd even appropriated the Ryuzaki-like posture and… And… "Is Light-kun wearing eyeliner?"

"Yes. Lots of it. You have no _idea_ how hard it is to look so hideous," Light hissed, unpleasant memories of Sayu springing to mind. Once the young girl had noticed her make-up was missing, questions of Light's sexuality had shortly followed, accompanying by much mocking laughter and cries of "whatever you say, _princess_!" It had been a painful conversation Light wished to bury and never look back on.

Ever.

"I thank Light-kun for the compliment," Ryuzaki replied, one eyebrow raised in what seemed to be amusement, "but I don't think it will work. People will just assume that this is the latest fashion statement."

"Nonsense, Ryu!" Light declared, waving one hand so as to brush his nonsensical statement away. "Everybody will be _appalled_, and I don't blame them. I nearly fainted when I saw my reflection this morning."

"Is Light-kun calling me ugly?" the zombie-like teen frowned, tugging at his hair with the pads of his index finger and bleeding thumb. "Does he not like the way I look?"

"No, you're as ugly as hell. And I'm kind of glad."

And that was all the reassurance he needed.

* * *

"Ohh, _Liiighhhtttt_! You look so strange and yet…"

_Warped? Evil? Disfigured? Vampiric? Dead?_

"Yet so intoxicatingly handsome!! OHMYGOD, you're SOOOOOO much cuter than before! Misa-Misa didn't think she could love Light any more, but she does because Light is _so _adorable!"

…

_What the bloody hell?_

"I think the change is acceptable," Takada noted, nodding her head in approval. "If we were to go out together with your updated apparel, it would only make us appear more interesting as a couple."

"Well _that's _where you're wrong, bitch!" Misa hissed, sticking her tongue out. "Light's new look would suit ME, what with my gothic clothes and all! You'd just look STUPID hanging out with him! I hate your 'hi there, I'm so _perfect_!' act – you make me sick!"

"That's just what _you _think, isn't it Misa? But… Oh, my, how silly of me. You don't think at all, do you?"

"Of _course_ I think! I was just thinking of how awesome it would be if you spontaneously combusted!"

"Hey, Light, are those two bothering you aga- oh my, Light! You've… You've changed, but it suits you so much. I like it a lot better than your previ-"

"OH SHUT UP, MIKAMI!"

And it was with those words that Light decided life was completely pointless.

As such, the poor, mistreated teen reached out for his pen and staked himself through the heart with it-

("OH MY GOD, LIGHT! YOUR CORPSE IS _SOOO _TOTALLY SEXY!"

"Back off, Misa, the corpse is _mine_! You know nothing of catering for the needs of the deceased."

"No, but _you'll _be deceased in a moment if you don't shut the fuck up!"

"What a pity this is. Do you suppose the bloodstains will wash out of his clothes? Or maybe if we were to clean them multiple ti-"

"SHUT UP, MIKAMI!")

-and, subsequently, nobody gave a damn.

Meanwhile, perched in his own little corner with a few books and a bag of jellybeans, Ryuzaki did something he'd never done before.

He laughed.

And life went on.

* * *

**a.n: except for light. who was dead.**

**haha, this turned so ****weird**** and ****cracky**** when i was writing. it didn't start that way – honest xD anyway, this was a helluva lotta fun to write. everybody loves light xD**

**&, as a quick note… i once mistook a picture of charles the second for vlad the impaler, too. it's what happens when you watch too much hellsing… :D**


End file.
